Remember
by Darling Summers
Summary: In Gale's last moments with Katniss before she entered the 74th Hunger Games, what exactly did he want her to remember? Suzanne Collins owns all :


_**A/N:**_ This is my first post for _**Project PULL**_- a brilliant idea coined by Bookaholic711, in which participants post something new (over 1000 words) every Friday fortnight.

Although I am an avid Team Peeta supporter, personally, I do love Gale too :) This is for all the Team Galers down at the HG forums, and especially for Ellie, who, despite being a Team Gale girl, posted a lovely Katniss/Peeta oneshot :)

_**Remember**_

My eyes drop towards my hands- I cannot think of anything else to say. How could I? My Catnip, so brave, but rendered so fragile by what will face her when she leaves this room.. Even though neither of us can bear to say it, the horrible, almost inevitable outcome of today's Reaping could mean that we might never see each other again.

Get a bow, I tell her. To make one, if she has to- a poorly crafted bow is better than no bow at all. I think back on the time we have spent together in the woods- her flawless skill, her perfect aim- and I allow a glimmer of hope to surface. Maybe she'll do it- maybe she'll win. If anybody could do it, Katniss could- what's so different, after all? What's so different about the Games from what we've been doing all these years- just an arrow shot cleanly through a vulnerable point would do it. Has done it. Easy as that.

But looking at her now, I don't know whether she'll be able to do it. Sometimes, more often than I'd like, I wonder if she's too good for all of this- too good a person to have suffered through everything she has. Of course she is, I know, but the thought that immediately follows is whether she's too good for me, as well. So I try not to think of it.

I look at her again, more closely, and wonder how on earth she isn't completely broken by all of this.

Not a single tear. Katniss never cries.

I can only recall it happening once- in the early, tentative months of our friendship, we were continually firing questions at one another challengingly, each one more difficult than the last. When I hit the sore point of her father, I instantly regretted it- I had been annoyed that she had accidentally scared off a rabbit, on a day when other pray was very scarce, but I knew immediately that I had reacted far too harshly. I try not to remember the exact words I used.

Tears streaming down her face, she turned on her heel and fled back towards the fence, ignoring the pleading apologies I was shouting as I attempted to catch up with her. She was always fast, too.

She didn't talk to me for three days.

She told me eventually, though- she always did tell me everything, sooner or later. Whenever she was ready to- I tried not to force answers out of her again. She was even more fragile, back then- a wary woodland creature that I had to tame by speaking gently to her, and by coaxing her thoughts from her.

She's different now- still wild, still beautiful, but hardened, somehow.

District Twelve does that to us all.

Inexplicably, I feel a sudden, cold anger, because she didn't have to do this- she didn't have to take Prim's place in the Reaping. I subdue it as best I can. I know as well as she does that, however slim Katniss' own chances are, Prim would stand no chance whatsoever in the arena. Her unerring loyalty to her sister made her value Prim's life above her own; once Prim was safe, she had no regard for her own life. She volunteered. I had always believed that loyalty was one of her best traits. Maybe it's not so good a trait as I thought it was.

Our conversation turns back toward her strategies for the Games- there's nothing else that we can talk about. It's not hard to imagine that Katniss will have scores of Capitol-goers clamouring to sponsor her. I know I would, if I had anything of worth to sponsor her with. She has the skill that will keep her safe, the intelligence to keep herself alive, and the beauty that will bring in the sponsors that will be her link between life and death in the arena. I've never told her that she's beautiful before. Too late, I realize that I should have told her long ago.

I know other boys have noticed her. I've seen the hurried glances that other boys have shot towards her, ducking their gaze down almost immediately, as if afraid that somebody might notice. Cowards. I've noticed them, even if she hasn't.

That boy, the other tribute- Peeta- he was one of them. The thought that he might be killed soon as well, leaving no time for him to make his way into Katniss' affections, strangely, isn't much of a comfort.

Our time is running out- there can't be more than a minute left. In vain, I try to ignore the steadily ticking grandfather clock in the corner of the room. I want to stop time- to place my hand across the pendulum and freeze this moment forever, so we never have to face the next one. Wishful thinking.

Out of all the 'if only' thoughts running through my head, one in particular haunts me. Was it only this morning that we were in the woods together- when I suggested that we leave the grim daily reality of life in District Twelve behind? Ironic that she's leaving it now- the odds must really be in our favour.

The thing that's really hard to bear is that we could have done it. I know we could have. None of the authorities would really care enough to come after us- we'd just be two less mouths to feed. I push the thoughts of our families firmly out of my mind.

The thing is, I know that she could have done it, too. For a moment, for just a moment, I know that she seriously considered going with me- just dropping everything, and going. We could have made a new life together- our children would never have to go through what we had to go through. What Katniss had to go through. No Reapings, no arena… no Games. But there might never be a future any more- not for us. Not for Katniss.

My time is up. I panic, faced with the idea that I will have to face living without her. Forever. As I am escorted out, I struggle under the Peacekeeper's firm grip, trying to catch one last glimpse. To say one more goodbye. I suddenly realize that I may never have another chance to tell her.

"Katniss!" I call over my shoulder frantically. "Katniss! Remember that I…"

The door slams shut. It's too late now. Katniss may not be able to cry, but for once, I have no reserves about it. The tears flow freely from my eyes now, and I slump down against the wall, giving up the struggle to get back into the room as I am deposited firmly outside.

_"Remember… that I love you."_


End file.
